


Bacchanal

by Adara_Rose



Series: The Great Plot Bunny Extermination of 2018 [3]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Drinking, Drunk Sex, Hook-Up, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 21:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15715317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adara_Rose/pseuds/Adara_Rose
Summary: It is a night for feasting and celebrating, and what could be more celebratory than this?





	Bacchanal

Perhaps it was the wine. No, it was definitely the wine. Apollo had known that drinking more than two cups of the damn wine had been a terrible idea - Dionysus always had the best stuff - but there he was, well into his fourth cup and more than a little tipsy. 

Okay, so he was drunk.

 

That must be the reason why he was eyeing up the person he was eyeing up. Apollo liked pretty things, be they nymph, human, or metal. Just… don’t ask about the last one. It was bad enough as it was, he’d never live it down, could we please talk about something else.

 

Except Pan looked really,  _ really, _ good in that shirt. Good enough to eat, actually, where he sat cross legged so you could get a good look of his goat legs and heavy hooves, set off by s slinky silk shirt that strained over his upper body. He was smoking a pipe, and wasn’t that straight out of the myths? It was all the pipe’s fault that Apollo wanted to crawl into his lap and replace that pipe with his mouth. 

 

“You feeling alright?” He could hear the smirk in Dionysus’ voice long before he turned his head to look at the other God.

“Just peachy” he replied crankily, taking another sip from his goblet.

“Well, people are starting to let loose” Dionysus said, “finally. I am reasonably sure that at least one of my sons disappeared with a few of your kids about fifteen minutes ago, so the orgy should be on soon enough. Care to join in?”

“No, thank you.” Apollo shook his head, immediately regretting it when the world started to spin.

“Ah, you’ve already got your eye on someone, hmm?”

“Of course not” Apollo denied hotly, but his eyes betrayed him as they strayed back to the King of Satyrs sitting peacefully under a tree, surrounded by various demi-gods that were tipsy from wine and begging him to play for them.

 

Just then, Pan turned his head and looked straight at them, and Apollo felt sucker-punched by the most beautiful dark brown eyes he had seen in his life. And he liked beautiful things. Long horns curled down on each side of the satyr’s face, like those of a ram but larger, his features were elegant and animalistic at the same time, and no one should be allowed to have a mouth like that, in Apollo’s not-so-humble opinion. It was a mouth he couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss or see stretched around his cock. Preferably both, actually.  

 

As if having heard what he thought, the other God stood up surprisingly gracefully, adjusted his crown of flowers, and strolled over to where Apollo stood as if he owned the camp. 

“Hello” he crooned in a voice that was deep and husky and hoarse like a chainsmokers. Apollo opened his mouth, but nothing came out except a squeak. Damn the wine!

“Hello” he finally managed, like a godling on his first party.

Pan’s dark eyes were appreciative when they ran him over, and why had he never gotten up close and personal with the satyr before? 

Oh. right. He was a  _ satyr. _ According to the stories, satyrs were nice enough until you got them worked up. Then they either beat the shit out of you or fucked you senseless. Or both, to be fair. Usually both. Apollo had never really bothered with them; he didn’t fancy being on the receiving ends of the attentions of a rutting beast.

 

Except tonight that seemed like an excellent idea, so when Pan got in his personal space and backed him up until he collided with a pillar, Apollo had no complaints. All he did, as a meaty, hairy thigh pressed between his legs and a pair of surprisingly strong hands found their way under his shirt, was moan.

 

In the morning, Apollo examined his bruises. There were more than he had expected, but not a one delivered in anger.

Pan’s deep, dark eyes were amused.

“Got what you wanted, Sun God?”

Apollo looked at Pan consideringly. Specifically at the organ that had made him scream his throat hoarse multiple times during the night, as he scratched and clawed at both the ground and tanned flesh.

Then he decided. It was bacchanal, after all, and it had only just started. Why not have a private party? Especially with a man like this.

“Beautiful” he whispered against a lush mouth opening under his, even as he rolled over and straddled the satyr. “You are so beautiful.”

 

And everyone knew that Apollo loved beautiful things.


End file.
